


Two Kingdoms

by Adams_Riddle



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Fantasy AU, Fluff, HPLV speedrun, M/M, No angst allowed, Opposite of slowburn, Oral Sex, arranged marriage that goes well, but that's for the best, but the background story doesn't really matter, explicit sex between two adults, genuine affection, in which Gryffindor and Slytherin are KINGDOMS, okay the characters are a bit OOC, oneshot with epilogue, pure fluff, so sweet and fluffy you'll get tooth decay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:48:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27657068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adams_Riddle/pseuds/Adams_Riddle
Summary: The kingdoms of Gryffindor and Slytherin have been at war for decades, until a treaty is made and sealed by marriage between the Gryffindor Heir and Slytherin King. ONESHOT VERY AU. I just wanted to write something sweet, and this is certainly that. Voldemort, in particular, treats Harry very well.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Voldemort
Comments: 18
Kudos: 237





	1. Oneshot

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GeMerope](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GeMerope/gifts).



Harry wasn’t sure how the man at the other end of the hall managed to look so devastatingly handsome in his ceremonial robes, which were made of stiff fabric and covered everything except his hands and face, much like Harry’s own robes. His mother took him by the crook of his arm, and Harry looked into her kind eyes – vibrantly green like his own- the crown on her auburn hair looking much like golden flames. She gave a subtle tug and they began walking down the aisle.

The young prince turned his attention to the man he was walking to again, the stranger was an unmarried king in his own right, the king of a nation his own kingdom had been in conflict with for over 50 years. Indeed, the people of Slytherin and that of Gryffindor had not fostered any kind of love for each other in the long years of war. Everything about the king he was to wed was unfamiliar to him, the swirling green and silver scales that adorned the man’s otherwise black ceremonial robes, the silver spikes of his crown, deadly sharp and unwelcoming – even the man’s red eyes seemed intimidating at a distance, Harry was struck at the unnatural beauty - though hairless, though he had inherited the trademark slitted nose of his royal line, though he was taller than any citizen of Gryffindor. His pale skin shined in the golden light of the cathedral, the late afternoon blessing their union with easy rays of warmth through high stained windows all around them.

“It’ll be okay, my love. You are strong, you will make our kingdom stronger with your union, you are a Potter, and a true Gryffindor. The last enemy that shall be defeated is death.” Queen Lily whispered to Harry as they neared the end of their long walk. She let go of his arm, and bowed her head to King Voldemort, then stepped back to join her husband, King James, in the crowd of those who had turned up to witness the event of the century. Harry took a deep breath, glanced at his Father, at his childhood friends half in shadow with the Royal Staff lining the edge of the hall, and stepped up to the altar next to the otherworldly being, he did his best to suppress a blush as the King seemed to be taking in his face as much as he had been scanning the other. Eventually, Harry turned to the presiding Priest, a close family friend and religious leader, Albus Dumbledore.

“Welcome, one and all, to the union of two great kingdoms, we are seeing history here today as the conflict between our peoples is put to rest. More than that still, we are here to see two wonderful souls joined in marriage.” Albus had a kind face, and a voice that carried when he spoke, his long beard and golden white robes were familiar and comforting. Albus reached out for Harry’s hand, and then Voldemort’s in turn.

“Prince Harry James Potter of Gryffindor, and King Voldemort I of Slytherin stand here today to bring us into a new era!” Albus raised their separated hands for all to see, and then joined them inside of his own with a wide smile, he let go to reveal their hands were joined to the crowd. Harry didn’t hear the rest of the speech Albus made, too focused on the largeness of Voldemort’s hand, how long the fingers seemed to be, how sharp his nails, how cold his skin was compared to his own. He was sure he was trembling, and he could hear blood rushing in his head.

“Do you, King Voldemort, accept Prince Harry James Potter as your King consort? To be your equal in matters of the heart and realm alike?” Albus asked of the strange man, and Harry took a deep breath, wondering for an instant if the whole alliance was to be thrown away on a word, more so wondering desperately what the King’s voice would be like-

“I do accept, and welcome my consort into the Kingdom of Slytherin willingly. With this marriage, I proclaim the treaty between our peoples active forever more.” Voldemort swore in a voice so deep and silky, Harry started at hearing it, not having expected that, the tones had seemed to vibrate through his entire body.

“Harry, do you take the King as your own, and ascend to the throne as his equal in all things? Do you swear to uphold the terms of the treaty to the best of your ability from this moment on?” Albus’ gentle blue eyes met his own, seeking his sincerity.

“I do, and swear to do all that I can to uphold the treaty and serve the people of both kingdoms justly, and fairly.” Harry smiled, and proclaimed.

From his robes, Albus drew forth a stick of elder, which he waved over their clasped hands, golden light shot out as ribbons, tying their joined hands, and seemingly sinking into their skin. They were wed.

~

“For the greater good, my boy. We will see you again.”

He sighed heavily as he clutched his bag close to him, the portkey would activate soon, he would join his new husband, the King of Slytherin, shortly.

“I will miss you all.”

The King and Queen drew their only son into a tight shared embrace, as Albus watched on. King James adjusted his glasses as he pulled back, and patted his son on the shoulder once more. Harry took the portkey and disappeared in a whirl of colour. The townspeople would whisper that the storms following the week after the Prince’s departure were caused by the Queen’s sorrow, and unrelenting tears as she wept for her son.

After all, everyone knew what Slytherins were like.

~

Rather than the entrance hall of a castle, or even the front gates of the famed Slytherin estate, Harry was deposited directly into a bedroom. A grand one, yes, but he was startled to find his new husband waiting for him in such an intimate setting. The man was sitting at a desk, had been seemingly waiting for him, his eyes were on him in that unsettling way.

“Greetings, little Prince,” Voldemort’s voice was unexpectedly soft, Harry didn’t know what to say, but put his bag down slowly, and looked around the room – was it the King’s quarters? He wasn’t sure if he would be expected to share with the King, or if perhaps these were his own quarters and the King had wanted to greet him personally? It was unlike the ceremony and pomp of home, where every citizen would want to greet the royal family in a big crowd after a trip away, it was exhausting at times, but somehow he felt vulnerable to be met by only one person in this new territory. There was nothing between them but a vast cultural chasm, and no one to bridge the gap.

Harry was just eighteen, and had been present only at the last border skirmish between their Kingdoms before the treaty negotiations had started six months ago, yet he knew that the King in front of him – well, he didn’t know his exact age, but everyone knew he had ruled Slytherin Kingdom for a long, _long_ time. Longer than his parents had been King and Queen anyway. He was known for ruthlessness, for bloodlust and power games while his family preached mercy and equality. Harry was so far out of his comfort zone that he wasn’t sure how to meet the impossible task ahead of him, but the final condition for peace between their two peoples was that they had to set an example by royal marriage to teach tolerance.

This had to work between them somehow. Harry did his best to withhold a grimace at the thought.

“Good day to you.” He began with a surge of confidence, he _would_ make it work. He walked over to the desk where his husband sat, “I am afraid I was caught a bit off-guard by the portkey destination, my apologies.”

“I thought it prudent to allow you to acclimatise to your new home before introducing you to the general populace, a ball is scheduled for tomorrow night with my, ah… close confidantes, ministers, and such. People of power in my kingdom. Perhaps in a week or so, you will feel comfortable enough for a Thestral ride through the city to allow the lower tier to get to know you.” Voldemort explained courteously. Harry was taken aback, but pleased that considerations had been made for him to adjust – a rarity for royals in any Kingdom.

“Very gracious of you...” Harry bowed his head in thanks, “Um, this will be very uncouth of me, but how should I address you?”

Voldemort smiled at Harry’s sudden bashfulness, and weirdly, his teeth were not sharpened like daggers as the rumours suggested, they were just teeth.

“Little prince, in private you may address me as you will, perhaps you would be more comfortable using my pre - regnal name: Marvolo.” The King suggested, then he stood, dwarfing Harry who was _not_ short by any means at 5ft11, but anyone would be short next to the slender 7ft King.

“Marvolo,” Harry tested out the name, the vowels rolled off his tongue unfamiliarly, “I insist you call me Harry in private then, just Harry...” He looked up at the other standing over him.

“Just Harry it is,” Marvolo murmured, and lifted one of his hands to catch Harry’s jaw, tilting his chin up to see his face more clearly. The inspection of his features made Harry blush, and his eyes widened when he felt thin lips press to his, “My little prince.”

Marvolo released him and stepped away, “These are your quarters for now, I’ll let you settle in. If you need anything at all, your guard is at the door and can summon a servant for you. I’ll see you at dinner.” The King left the room with a few graceful steps, looking back at Harry before closing the door behind him.

Harry felt his way to the bed and sat down, face fully red.

~

A few hours after Harry had arrived in his new home, the rest of his luggage arrived by portkey, so now there were a handful of Elven servants in his private rooms quietly rushing about putting everything away. Harry tried not to get in their way, but did wince a few times at the rough handling of his personal items. Naturally, he’d had his invisibility cloak, a photo album and wand all with him in his bag when he’d arrived, but really, his firebolt couldn’t be tossed around so indelicately.

Finally, they finished unpacking and withdrew, but for one.

“Is there anything else master needs?” The young looking elf asked.

Tiredly, Harry rubbed a hand over his face, “A bath perhaps?”

“Right away, sir.”

A few minutes later, he was stepping into the lavish bathroom, and the sight of steam rising from the large oval tub had Harry eagerly removing his robes. Towels and a selection of soaps lined one counter, and though the water was already scented – pomegranate? An unusual choice – Harry couldn’t resist smelling each one of the bottles, and added some strawberry scented foam to the bath. The elf had already left when Harry slipped into the water with a relieved sigh, feeling the tension draining out of his body.

A soft wash-cloth had been left for his use, he summoned it easily and leisurely cleaned himself, wondering how the elf had managed to get the water temperature so perfect. He dunked himself under the water to wet his hair, and brushed the water and hair from his eyes when he emerged, sitting back against the edge of the bath in contentment.

He jumped quite violently when something touched his shoulders. Long fingers rubbed his shoulders soothingly, and a rich laugh rumbled through the room, it didn’t relax him at all even after recognising the voice of the King. He didn’t turn – _couldn’t_ with those strong hands on him – even so, when he spoke his voice was higher than he would have liked.

“M-Marvolo?” He managed, cursing himself for again not knowing what to say.

“Little prince,” The other greeted airily, rubbing his shoulders some more, Harry let out an involuntary groan at the sensation and jumped again.

“Ah, I thought I wouldn’t see you until dinner?” He probed airily.

“Indeed, until I happened to be passing by and decided to see how you were settling in.” The man had to be kneeling behind the free-standing tub, with the ease that his voice burned through him, Harry was sure he could feel the man’s breath on his neck.

“So- _gracious-_ ” Harry was struggling with the indignity and indecision of trying to cover himself or pull away and staying put, maybe letting the other continue to rub his shoulders _just like that._

“Hm,” Marvolo hummed in agreement, “I suppose I am.” The playful and smug tone was not what he had expected from the King who had stood so triumphant and cold and _intense_ just the day before at their union. The man moved closer, and Harry felt the cold of the other’s lips on his neck, contrasting the heat from the bath water and his own skin, he was unprepared for strong arms to wrap around him, the King’s lips kissed and sucked at his neck and Harry, in a moment of insanity, wondered wildly about the cost of the robes his bath water might be ruining.

“Marvolo!” He protested, voice cracking. The man let him go, Harry was breathing quite heavily, and he turned and moved away from the edge of the bath. The man eyed him, predatory, his gaze lingering on his neck.

“Very well, I suppose our consummation should at least wait until after your welcome dinner.” The man conceded, “Enjoy your bath, _Harry_.” He purred, making his name sound utterly filthy with his tone, and left just as sneakily as he had entered.

Harry’s mouth had dropped in shock at the other’s antics, and he murmured the word ‘consummation’ to himself, wondering how he had missed that clause in the treaty. Although, normal marriages also generally required consummation or risked annulment, so perhaps that had been what the other meant. The prince punched the water in frustration, spluttering when the water splashed him in the eyes.

Later, when he got out, the dark bruise on his throat would cause an uncomfortable amount of arousal and confusion on his part.

~

Harry disdainfully looked through his outfits. A welcome dinner called for a fairly formal garment, but there were none that would not look out of place with the bright colours that were so customary in his kingdom. It even seemed to be a cooler climate – or perhaps the castle was just draughty – but it was unsettling him already. He bit his lip in thought, remembering a few weeks before the ceremony, one of the last relaxed moments with his friends – the baker’s son, and the doctor’s daughter; Ron and Hermione. Hermione had dragged them to the library (when didn’t she?) to help him research what it would be like living outside of Gryffindor, it was hard to recall the words now when her wild brown curls, and Ron’s ever-smudged nose and freckles filled his mind. He swallowed down the moment of homesickness and took a deep breath. He approached the his bedroom door, and poked his head out awkwardly to address the guard.

“Excuse me,” He started, “I don’t seem to have – that is, is there a Royal Tailor available here? I require their services.” He felt awkward asking, who knew if they even had such things here?

“I shall send for the Black sisters, they will certainly be able to help.” The guard informed him, giving a short bow. Harry watched the guard hiss an incantation, and a ghostly animal flew quickly down the corridor, too quick to discern much of its shape.

“Was that all, your highness?”

“Oh! Yes, thank you.” Harry slipped back into his room, still dressed only in underwear and a thin black shirt. He resisted the urge to bite his nails, an old bad habit he’d been trained out of when he was just ten years old. Instead, he paced, clasping his hands behind him while he waited. It turned out not to be too long before he heard footsteps outside, the guard entered to announce them.

“The Black sisters, your highness; Bellatrix, Andromeda, and Narcissa Black.”

Three very different women entered, the first with wild curly hair, dressed in the tightest leather corset he’d ever seen with a skirt that flared out dramatically – it seemed to float of it’s own volition an inch from the floor – her eyes were as dark as her hair, and wilder. Bellatrix Black.

The next resembled the first in that her eyes were also heavily-lidded, but her face was rounder, her eyes grey instead, and her dark hair fell in smooth, styled waves and she wore a modest cloak of fine blue material, it sparkled as she moved. Andromeda Black.

The final was starkly different again from her sisters before her, for her hair shone as though spun from gold itself, wrapped up in a complicated bun atop her head, her eyes pierced the very air and were the colour of the skies above. She favoured Andromeda’s style in that her clothing was modest and elegant, but the emerald robe she wore wrapped around her like it wanted to be there. Narcissa Black.

“Greetings, Sisters.” Harry found he did not mind his lack of clothing in front of these women, as strange as they appeared, “Thank you for attending so promptly.”

“Welcome to Slytherin Castle, your highness.” Narcissa addressed him, all three gave a short curtsey. “How may we serve you today?”

“I realise that our cultures are quite different, and I am trying to prepare for a welcome dinner with the King this evening. I feel that my wardrobe does not quite meet my needs, I asked the guard for a Royal Tailor or equivalent, are you the correct people for this task?” Harry explained quickly, leaning against the edge of the desk as he did so. Andromeda stepped forwards.

“We do much for the Royal House, including clothing when needed.” She was to the point, she was quietly confident, she- she was leaving things out going by Bellatrix’s wide grin – but Harry didn’t have time to pursue the point.

“Very well, I would like an appropriate outfit to dine with the King. Thank you Sisters.” Harry gave a tense smile as they withdrew their wands and started eyeing him speculatively.

~

Harry had never worn a tighter outfit, he should have trusted his instinct when Bellatrix got a little excited with materials – though that was not to say the material did not feel soft on his skin. The chains and blades on his new circlet had seemed a bit much, but it was striking enough: Silver, much like Voldemort’s crown, though each spike was linked by a chain wrapping around it. They had insisted on applying dark liner to his eyelids, bringing out the green of his eyes more vividly. His buttoned shirt was the dark black he associated with Slytherin, but decorated with scales in artistic patterns, the buttons seemed to be actual diamond, and his trousers were skin tight leather.

Andromeda had insisted on a thick cloak when she noticed his discomfort at the temperature, and he did admit that he was more comfortable in it. It almost felt like a shield between him and the rest of the world.

“Your highness, it is time to go, would you like us to accompany you to the dining hall?” Narcissa asked demurely, letting her hand linger on his arm as she finished adjusting his cloak and fixing it in place with a charm. He raised both eyebrows at her and she flashed a smile at him.

“By all means, lead the way. Will you three be joining us?” Harry made conversation as the group filed out of the room. He pretended not to notice the addition of two guards following them as they left the room, he’d been followed by a protective presence his whole life, it was one thing that it seemed would continue here.

“Naturally, I am sure the King would be disappointed if the head of his Military was missing from such an important meal.” Bellatrix sing-songed as she almost skipped down the hall. Harry managed not to stumble at the casual revelation but did pause mid-stride as he digested that.

“I… see.”

“And dearest Cissy is the chosen wife of his top financial adviser, Lucius Malfoy, though she is quite the party planner and hostess in her own right. Little aristocrat. Of course! Dear Andy over here too teaches, heals, and organises the human staff in the house.” Bellatrix continued revealing, looking gleeful, “Oh and occasionally we all indulge in a bit of secret mission work. Assassinations, fetching cake if the King craves it, rescuing snake nests from predatory species. That sort of thing.”

“Quite the versatile bunch, then.” Harry commented diplomatically, making Bellatrix burst out with laughter, and even getting the other two to crack smiles.

“Oh, your highness, we are going to get along.” This time Bellatrix did skip as she led the way.

~

“Good evening, King Voldemort.” Harry was unsure if he could use the man’s non-regnal name in front of his subordinates, now that he knew they were all generals, spies, and more. The trio had joined a group mingling with glasses of wine almost immediately, and left Harry to greet Voldemort on his own. As in every meeting with the man so far, those blood-red eyes set Harry alight from the inside as they devoured the sight of him.

“My consort, it pleases me to see you so well settled in.” Voldemort purred to him, extending a hand to take Harry’s own hand and bring it to his mouth, laying a kiss into his palm affectionately without breaking eye contact. Harry blinked several times, mouth quite suddenly dry, he took his hand back and stood up straight, clasping his hands behind him instead as he surveyed the room.

“I see you gather casually before meals?” The lack of table in the dining room had thrown him at first, “Is that a custom here in Slytherin?”

“They are waiting for me to formally introduce you to them as my consort, little Prince,” Voldemort explained with an amused twist to his mouth, “Then the elves will set the table at your pleasure.”

“My-?” Harry tried to query, but silence had fallen around them, Voldemort was holding a glass high in the air, a symbol to the room that he was ready to speak. Obedient, he fell quiet too.

“My trusted, my friends, the treaty is a success, as you have no doubt noticed the ethereal presence of King Consort Harry Potter, previously Prince Harry Potter, from the Kingdom of Gryffindor. He is as mine as he is the realm’s, and we look forward to your continued support in this new era of peace.” Voldemort knew how to give a damn good speech, he made it look easy, and the room clapped politely when he was finished.

“Now, for the tasting,” And at that cue, three elves entered, snapping their fingers to bring into existence a round table big enough for only two people, and two chairs. Three small plates with silver cloche covering the contents underneath. Voldemort gracefully escorted Harry to one of the seats, and took the other. The elves placed bone white cutlery in front of Harry, but not in front of Voldemort. Harry was very uncertain as to what was happening, and uncomfortable that everyone was watching him. An elf came to stand on his left, Harry tried to keep a calm face as his eyes searched Voldemort’s face for hints as to how he should proceed.

“The meal this evening will be in three parts,” The elf announced in a high, dignified tone, “Courtesy of the Slytherin Castle kitchen for King Consort Harry’s liking, we have a Celeriac, Camembert and Truffle Soup as a starter, which he will now taste.” The cloche was removed, revealing a small golden dish with the described yellow soup. Unsure as to why, but hoping he wouldn’t have to do this for every meal, Harry selected the outermost spoon from the assorted cutlery, and was surprised to realise that the spoon and handle of the spoon had a marble like texture, instead of the metal he was used to. He sent a mental prayer that he wouldn’t make a fool of himself before dipping the spoon into the bowl and bringing it to his lips. He was happily surprised that the taste was to his liking, the texture creamy and the temperature just right. He smiled his relief, and noted Voldemort’s approval.

“Is the dish to your liking?” Voldemort asked, sitting back in his chair to a more relaxed pose.

“It is, my compliments to your staff.” Harry thanked, on automatic, realising afterwards that they were technically his staff now too. The elf at his side beamed with pride.

“The main dish of the evening is roasted duck, freshly prepared this very day in your honour, with a light heirloom tomato salad, and caramelized parsnips. There will also be a selection of roasted potatoes, further salad, and sauces at the feast.” When the plate was revealed to him, his mouth watered: a slice of meat decadently decorated in the colourful tomato salad and caramelised parsnips. He restrained himself and picked up the white knife and fork to try it with dignity, Harry willed his stomach not to growl. With less apprehension, he delicately cut into the meat and gathered some of the sides onto his fork with it, trying all three in one mouthful.

He – just – withheld an indecent moan of appreciation, while King Voldemort was looking more and more like the cat that caught the canary. Harry really was glad that the rumours of chimera liver and dragon hearts as common dishes were apparently not true, he had been prepared to try new food, and it was very relieving to eat something so wonderful, even though it was prepared differently than in his Kingdom.

“I fully approve!” Harry proclaimed before anyone could ask, prompting a chuckle from his husband. There were excited titters in the crowd at the positive reaction, Harry wasn’t wondering so much what the ceremony was all about any more.

“Finally, for your approval, the final dish will be a selection of our finest cheeses and grapes, and wine that was sealed and has been aged here on the estate for fifty years.” The elf proudly announced, revealing the taster platter, as another elf appeared to pour a small measure into a wine glass.

Harry did not waste time trying the delights presented to him, each cheese with it’s own notes, each grape sweeter than the last. He followed the few small mouthfuls with the wine, and was briefly stunned at it’s strength of flavour, and at the immediate pleasant buzz, as though his magic and blood were singing.

“Wonderful! I give you my approval.” Harry smiled, Voldemort extended his long arm across the length of the table to hold Harry’s hand and stood with him.

“With the King Consort’s approval now given, we shall commence our feast.” Voldemort explained, and with a wave of his hand the table they’d sat at disappeared, a long table taking its place. Elves flittered in and out to line the table with dishes, and people began to take their seats. Voldemort escorted Harry to the head of the table.

“You look ravishing by the way, you did very well at the tasting.” Voldemort praised him, his arm wrapping around Harry’s shoulder as though claiming him. Harry smiled genuinely, feeling the most content that he had since arriving in the castle. Voldemort squeezed his shoulder once then let go to pull out his chair for him, no one could say that the king was not courteous to his consort. The meal began.

~

It was the wine, in the end, that got to Harry the most. During dessert, he had several glasses, finding it to be delightful the more he drank. Voldemort looked amused the entire time, watching him get to know his subordinates(?) and the aristocracy attending the meal. Occasionally someone seated further down the table would leave their seat to introduce themselves more formally to him, as it would be improper to try to yell down the table to converse.

Harry tried to be gracious to each of these people, but it was growing harder to remember everyone’s names, and he grew weary of being polite. The king, of course, made it seem easy – but then, he was far more familiar with the people in the room – Gracefully he discussed the nuance of the treaties with the blond man (Mallory? Luscious? Something like that) and he’d bring Harry into the discussion at times, asking about the trade market in Gryffindor, or the latest valuations on gold by the Goblin Nation. It was hard to keep up, harder than he imagined, he wished Hermione was with him to navigate the technical discussions, especially with a fuzzy head.

After the last traces of cheese and grapes disappeared from their plates, elves started to subtly take the plates away, and people filtered out of the hall until only a select group remained, a group Harry couldn’t help but think of as Voldemort’s inner circle. The man had put on a colder front when approached by anyone outside of the remaining group, but now, he was holding out a hand to Harry and smiling pleasantly, he seemed relaxed. Nothing about the situation was what Harry had expected from the rumours at home. Where were the muggles strung up and whipped for fun? Where were the sex cults and animal mutilation and backstabbing that had been reported on? It was too cosy, too… too nice and jarring and Harry was crying as his smaller hand was encompassed by Voldemort’s.

Suddenly everyone was gone except him and Voldemort, and he wasn’t in his own chair, he was on a comfortable lap and arms were wrapped around him – it was warm, there were nice smells, it felt so utterly safe. The tears were pouring out, and soothing rumbling was coming from the person holding him, words – a deep voice soothing him. Large hands stroking his hair back from his face, thin lips on his forehead. Wide emeralds stared in wonder at the unexpected kindness found in the rubies so close to him.

“Here, little prince, this will make you feel better.” The king’s voice was soft, “Sober up laced with a calming potion.” The man popped the lid on the vial and brought it to his lips, Harry drank and the brain fog that had overtaken him immediately began to recede. Embarrassment set in as he took stock of himself, sitting on the king’s lap, being comforted after getting a little too drunk on _wine_ and overwhelmed by his situation. Who knew that a ruthless warlord/tyrant king could be cuddly?

“...Thank you.” Harry sniffled, he conjured a handkerchief and dried his face of his tears, and wiped his nose, vanishing the handkerchief afterwards.

“Feel better?”

“Much.”

Voldemort’s arms were still around him, the man seemed perfectly comfortable with him on his lap, and Harry didn’t feel much like moving either. Hesitant, instead, he leaned into the man’s chest and rested his head on the king’s shoulder.

“I’m normally much more composed than this, you know.” Harry muttered with a weak laugh.

“I don’t doubt it, Harry.” Voldemort assured him, resuming stroking his hair.

It was odd how easily the emotional and physical intimacy came to the pair, but Harry could feel the warmth of Voldemort’s neck against his face, and the arms around him were welcoming. This man was his husband, and they were bound by treaty and magic for as long as they lived… Heart pounding, his mind whispered to him that damnable word _consummation._

Trembling hands gripped the King’s robes with determination, plump lips, bitten in anxiety a thousand times met warm skin, a mere peck on Voldemort’s neck really, but the atmosphere changed. He kissed the King’s neck again, more open mouthed, moving towards the man’s ear, he traced the pale earlobe with his tongue when the King – who had been still, allowing Harry to move at his own pace – let out a soft growl. Harry pulled back and looked Voldemort in the eye, the man’s desire evident through half lidded eyes. He kept one arm around Harry, but used his other hand to stroke his jaw and grasp his chin, “Last chance to back out, little prince.” He murmured.

“Kiss me already, Marvolo.” Harry breathed out in response.

Their lips met, and Harry threw his arms around the king’s neck, pulling himself up to straddle him in the opulent dining chair. Where before, Harry had thought the King’s skin was cold and strange, he now found that there was warmth in his kiss, his mouth was hot and wet – oh, they wasted no time in deepening the kiss and tasting lingering notes of that expensive wine Harry had drunk too much of.

They kissed again and again, not wanting to experience a moment where their lips had to ever part, and Harry ran his hands over Voldemort’s smooth bald head, not finding it repulsive in the least. He eventually rested his hands one on the back of the King’s neck, and the other cupping his jaw, fingers stroking over sharp cheekbones – discovering the tiny signs of age on Voldemort’s face that were not visible to the eye, some would say they were laughter lines, and Harry would not have believed it possible until today.

Eventually, it grew uncomfortable on the chair, and panting, both men aroused and intrigued for more, had to admit that the dining room was not an appropriate venue to continue. Harry took a deep shuddering breath and rested his forehead against his husband’s. Voldemort smiled, and moved his hand down Harry’s spine to rest on his lower back, “Hold tight, little prince.”

The warning was followed by the King standing in a fluid movement, grasping Harry close to him he turned on the spot and disapparated. They reappeared in an unfamiliar room which could only be Voldemort’s personal quarters. Everything was draped with black silk, including the huge four poster bed. It was outrageously indulgent, and had no less than ten pillows of varying sizes neatly arranged at the head of it. Still carrying his consort, Voldemort wasted no time pressing the young adult against the nearest wall and recapturing his lips, Harry’s legs wrapped around his waist and he let out a moan into Voldemort’s mouth at the passionate act.

With Harry well balanced between Voldemort’s hips and the wall, the King was free to nimbly begin undoing the sparkling diamond buttons of his consort’s shirt. Harry was similarly eager, and started fumbling with the clasp on his cloak, but seemed torn between doing that and touching Voldemort’s bare skin wherever he could. Impatient, Voldemort eventually mumbled a spell against Harry’s lips and their clothes removed themselves. The cool air hit their skin and both had goosebumps, but that only increased the tension between them.

Harry moaned again when Voldemort took to kissing his neck as passionately as he had done his mouth, and his nails scraped over the man’s shoulders in delight. In response, sharp nails raked over Harry’s thighs, making his toes curl at the mix of pain and surprising pleasure the sensation brought. Both were now eager for more of each other, so reluctantly Voldemort put Harry down but led him by the hand to his bed, smouldering eyes devouring the sight of his consort naked on the black silken sheets.

“Do you, um,” Harry stuttered when Voldemort smoothly knelt over him to resume kissing him, the man’s hands trailed down his chest in exploration, fingers delighting in the curls of hair across his chest and lower abdomen, “Do you know the spells for preparation? I’ve never actually used them, just read-”

“Shh, of course, little prince,” Voldemort soothed him, “But first...”

The King kissed his neck and trailed fire across Harry’s skin with his lips, moving down his body to his hip, where he kissed and nibbled, leaving a slight red mark. Harry was thankful the man’s hands were not cold when those long fingers wrapped around his cock – not needing to tease him to hardness as he was more than interested at this point – but bringing him pleasure nonetheless. The man’s grip was not too tight, and he pumped slowly, kissing his way over his hip again, and then meeting Harry’s eyes as he took the member into his mouth, forked tongue brushing over the head of his penis right away.

The slick warmth took Harry’s breath away, he cried out, hands flailing as he tried to decide if he could touch Voldemort while the man pleasured him, or not. Eventually he found his fingers digging into the sheets, holding on tightly as he struggled to not come in the King’s sinful mouth.

“Please-” He moaned, writhing, and Voldemort stopped, rubbing him only with his hand and moving to capture Harry’s lips with his own. Harry didn’t mind that he could taste himself in his husband’s mouth, feeling a flash of heat instead knowing how it had happened.

“I want-” Harry said breathlessly between kisses, “To touch you.”

“Then touch me.” Voldemort invited lowly, kissing him hard again before sitting up and giving Harry some space. Harry was sure his face was red, but eagerly he scrambled onto his knees facing Voldemort. He scooted closer and embraced his husband, running his hands over his back, boldly squeezing his arse and kissing across the man’s collarbones, down to his nipples – he teased one to hardness and licked it with his tongue, briefly giddy at the proof that he could affect the King so.

He could feel Voldemort’s eyes on him as surely as he could feel the hard flesh of the King’s cock in his hand when he grasped it, unsure at first as he’d only stroked his own in the dead of the night before today – he tried to remember what he liked, but threw caution to the wind after a moment to return the favour with his tongue instead.

Unlike Harry, Voldemort had no hesitation in threading his hands through Harry’s hair while Harry figured out the best way to please his husband – he kissed down the length, and took the head of the penis into his mouth, swirling his tongue over the head before getting the confidence to widen his jaw and take more into his mouth. He tried to be mindful of his teeth and flattened his tongue to massage the underside of the cock, feeling the thick vein and the way it seemed to jump with the King’s pulse.

The deep groans Voldemort freely let out were like gifts to Harry, the sounds were utterly indecent and delectable and he wanted to hear more of them. He let the man move his head in a delicate rhythm, and he appreciated that he didn’t force his way down his throat as he had heard some did. Instead, when he was ready, Harry moved closer than before and tried to relax his throat to let the head go deeper, and felt pride at his success. He sucked sinfully as he withdrew, and let go of the penis with a soft popping noise.

He straightened up and gasped when Voldemort pulled him onto his lap, the man gripped both of their cocks in one hand and rubbed them, and held Harry steady with the other hand on his back as he kissed him, their mutual tastes mingling wonderfully.

“Nn- Now?” Harry managed to ask, hoping he wouldn’t have to explain further.

“Beautiful, delectable, mine.” Voldemort praised him, but he let go of their cocks to perform the needed spell to clean and lubricate Harry. A moment passed, they were both breathing quite heavily – Harry getting used to the strange feeling of the spell, Voldemort regaining some self-control. The King kissed Harry’s shoulder and then his forehead, the moment intimate, then - “Is this okay?” he breathed out to Harry as he manoeuvred to press a slick finger against Harry’s anus.

“Yes, Marvolo, more-” Harry’s breathing hitched as the man complied and stretched him in preparation for his cock. Harry wondered what it would be like, comparing mentally the man’s fingers and penis, when those long fingers brushed his prostate. He jumped, startled by the pleasure, and the King did it again, purposefully, adding another finger.

“Oh- Please, I need-”

“I know, Harry, my own.” Voldemort breathed, enraptured by the sight of his smaller husband so fraught with sensation. He didn’t stop though, and continued for several minutes until he was convinced Harry was properly stretched. He kissed Harry’s head again when he was done, and withdrew his hand, he held onto Harry as he moved to lay down with Harry still straddling him. “Are you comfortable like this?”

“Yes,” Harry confirmed, a little nervous as he looked down at his husband. A whispered spell lubricated Voldemort. Those large hands ran over his thighs to comfort him as he adjusted, rubbing Voldemort’s cock a few times and aligning himself.

“Don’t force yourself onto it, just go as slowly as you need.” Came the quiet instruction. Harry nodded jerkily, and tried to relax as he guided the cock into himself. It was hard not to hold his breath as gradually the penis filled him and he was soon fully seated atop his husband, feeling self conscious at the eyes on him.

“Gorgeous prince, you’re doing so well.” Voldemort praised, he sat up a little propping himself up on one hand to draw Harry into a soft kiss. Harry whined at the movement, but Voldemort continued to kiss him, then he started to move. Grinding his hips up in deliberate movements that Harry was startled to realise quickly drove him mad.

Voldemort stopped kissing him for a moment and grasped him with a slick hand, pumping Harry’s cock as he started to thrust softly upwards into Harry. A strangled moan left Harry’s throat, he glimpsed the tensed muscles of his husband’s abdomen and was fascinated with the movement under the skin as he was fucked. The strength the King possessed was unsurprising though, Harry’s hands found Voldemort’s shoulders and he braced himself, starting to move to meet his husband’s thrusts. A growl of approval had his heart beating faster and Harry started to lose sense of time. There was only this. Only this. Sweaty skin and the feeling of being full, and his sweet spot being hit with every thrust. It was too much, Harry cried out as he came, splattering his husband’s chest with his semen.

“Good Harry, sweet prince, fuck-” Voldemort moaned, and sped up, chasing his release and finding it as Harry tensed around him, the aftershock of his orgasm making him feel hypersensitive, Harry whined and moaned in a constant litany until his husband gave one final thrust, stilling and groaning filthily as he came inside Harry. It was a near thing, but Voldemort’s arm did not give out under him, his breathing came out harshly in the otherwise silent room. Harry felt boneless and satisfied, immensely pleased, but a little sore and twitchy all at once.

Catching their breath gradually, they both eased up from their position, and Voldemort helped Harry off of him to lay next to him. Spells were wonderful things, they were clean of bodily fluids in a whisper. Harry curled up on his side and with a great effort, Voldemort rolled onto his side too and draped his arm over Harry. They remained that way comfortably for a while.

“Are you hurting anywhere?” The soft deep tone breached the silence.

“Er, some soreness…” Harry mumbled, halfway to sleep, he reached out blindly and pulled one of the many pillows towards himself, easing it under his head. His husband chuckled, and pressed a kiss to the top of his head.

“As comfortable as you’re making yourself, Harry, would you prefer a healing bath first? I have a bath concoction specifically for healing and soothing strained muscles...” The King suggested, brushing his thumb over Harry’s hip fondly.

Silence.

“Harry, are you ignoring me or are you asleep?”

“Nng.”

“I see.” Voldemort drew himself away from his consort and walked around to the side of the bed Harry was laying on. He hooked one hand under Harry’s legs, and managed to slide the other arm around Harry to pick him up. The King Consort made a few sleepy noises of protest, but cordially hung his arms around his husband and allowed himself to be carried to the bathroom.

The tub was big enough for two, but smaller than generally expected for a King, which surprised Harry as his own had definitely been larger when he’d bathed earlier. Voldemort put him down directly into the tub and Harry winced at the cool porcelain on his still warm skin. Multiple taps started running at Voldemort’s magical direction, and a more comfortable temperature enveloped Harry as the potion-laced water quickly rose, tinted green by the promised healing. White foamy bubbles smelling sweet also rose up with the water, and Voldemort climbed in with him relaxing into the tub and stopping the flow of the water after a moment.

“Thank you,” Harry remembered to say eventually, the tingle of healing and the receding soreness leaving him feeling much better.

“You’re welcome, Harry. It is the least I can do for my husband, after all.” Voldemort murmured, eyes shut and head tilted back, leaning on the edge of the bath. It was as amazing as it was startling how it felt to hear himself called husband by someone, Harry thought. Soon though, Harry began to giggle after a moment, remembering earlier in the day. Voldemort opened one eye to peek at him.

“Sorry, sorry,” Harry continued to snicker, “Just… Happy consummation.”

Voldemort snorted in a most unkingly way, “Happy consummation, indeed.”

~

END?


	2. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few months later, the parents visit.

“Harry! My love,” Queen Lily swept into the entrance hall and immediately headed for her son, wrapping him up in her arms, “It has been many months since we saw you last, I hope you are well.” She leaned back from the hug and looked at his face, scanned him for any sign of injury or unhappiness.

“Mum! It is great to see you, you are very welcome here, I’m sorry it took so long to convince the border towns to allow free travel, and then the roads needed maintenance, and I know how you hate portkey-travel so-” Harry babbled, excited to see his parents again. His father, King James was greeting his counterpart, King Voldemort cordially, and looking around appreciatively at the decorative statues around the hall.

“My son, my only son, I do not mind about that, but you must tell me, are you happy? How have you adjusted to life in this kingdom?” Lily smoothed Harry’s hair back from his face, and could see that his skin almost glowed with his joy. Harry’s eyes were fixed behind her on his husband, she turned to see that the King of the Slytherin Kingdom was just as distracted, watching Harry with warmth from across the hall.

“Life is good,” Harry informed her with a small smile, “Really good, mum.”

~

REAL END


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